


Of Course

by eastaustraliancurrent



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Confessions, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Wuko Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastaustraliancurrent/pseuds/eastaustraliancurrent
Summary: There was never really one confession with them. Onemomentwhere it all came together. No great outburst, no getting down on one knee and professing a love that would never die, despite how often Wu fantasized that exact scenario.
Relationships: Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 243





	Of Course

**Author's Note:**

> Wuko Week Day 1: First Kiss/Confession

There was never really one confession with them. One _moment_ where it all came together. No great outburst, no getting down on one knee and professing a love that would never die, despite how often Wu fantasized that exact scenario. Perhaps it would happen after a daring rescue from some dastardly foes, Mako sweeping Wu into his arms as he charioted him away to safety. Not that Wu enjoyed attempts on his life, though he had to admit the romantic potential was ripe there. Mako never appreciated those fantasies, instead flushing angry and insisting Wu refrain from joking about something as serious as all that. Wu tried to remind him it wasn’t a joke, it was actually a fantasy, and that you don’t have to actually want a fantasy to occur in order to enjoy it. Mako also didn’t appreciate the clarification.

But no, their relationship was nothing as grand as that. Theirs was built instead on years of companionship, little confessions disguised by gestures and cloaked in little words, hidden both from each other and themselves.

Wu at first had hardly realized what he had been doing. His life was a performance and he was a performer, a role that he enjoyed, though not one he could constantly maintain. Mako was the only one working behind the scenes, so to speak. Wu indulged in Mako, leaning into his presence. He thought of it at first as a little bonus content reel for his friend; Mako had access to all the little tidbits of personality that the rest of the world was not privy to. He later learned that this was how most people lived their lives: as themselves, not as a facade.

So Wu let himself go around Mako, let himself touch and talk and tease like he did with no one else, and Mako let him. Mako pretended not to like it, of course, but he let him, and Wu embarked on what he considered to be his first real friendship, free of political motivations.

It was easy with Mako, easy just to _be_. But as time went on Wu found himself wanting more, wanting to be more. He gravitated to Mako when he was around, which was all the time, leaving a hand on his shoulder, his back, trailing after him and always directing Mako’s attention back toward himself with words, actions, whatever. And Mako _let_ him, permitting his presence until it was a constant and they became Mako and Wu, Wu and Mako, and couldn’t go sans the other without it being questioned. 

The nature of their relationship was that it was a being unto itself, outside of and nearly impervious to their intentions, moving straight ahead without ever consulting its passengers. As such, it often swept them forward without their noticing.

Mako was reading the newspaper on the couch and Wu had perched his head on Mako’s shoulder, curled against him and pretending to read along, but really he was half-asleep already. Mako had shifted his arm beneath Wu and he must have twitched in response because Mako automatically smoothed his hand down Wu’s side and absently pressed a little kiss to the top of his head.

Wu nearly didn’t register it, already slipping back into his doze as Mako’s arm tensed where it held him. When he woke again it was Mako who was asleep, the newspaper carefully folded on the side table, his head tilted against the back of the couch. Wu was reluctant to move, but his foot had fallen asleep so he carefully slipped out from beneath Mako’s arm. He watched Mako snore, so much more relaxed than he ever was awake, so Wu shrugged, figured he should return the favor, and kissed Mako’s cheek before going to the kitchen for a snack.

And then casual kisses were the new addition to their relationship, slowly incorporated just as friendly conversation, casual touching, and hugging had been introduced. It was still a private thing, something just for them when they were away from the public’s stage. There was no conversation about it, any of it— they hadn’t needed one, instead relying on a silent, mutual agreement. It was like nothing had changed, and in a way, nothing really had. Wu didn’t feel the need to contemplate the intricacies of their relationship because he didn’t feel as though there were any; it just was, and what it was suited him fine.

In fact, Wu thought it possible that they could have gone their whole lives without addressing the thing between them if it weren’t for Mako’s friends. He had gone out with them that day, leaving Wu to fend for himself alone in the apartment, and had come back quieter and broodier than usual. Wu had asked what was wrong but Mako shook his head, going to his room and shutting the door after a quiet assurance that it was nothing Wu had done, nothing that he needed to worry about.

Wu blinked at the door, strange in its current, closed state, then set about making himself available for Mako whenever he was ready to talk.

Wu woke up when he felt the couch dip at his feet, and he clumsily pushed himself upright. He must have fallen asleep while he waited for Mako. “Is everything alright?” he asked, rubbing blearily at his eyes. He scooted down the couch until he could nudge Mako’s knee with his own.

Mako stared at him, eyes soft in the dim light. Night had fallen and the only light was coming from the streetlamps outside the window. “Yeah,” he replied.

Wu smiled. “Good,” he said, and leaned up to peck Mako on the cheek.

But Mako turned before he could, not away but towards, leaving his face open and exposed to Wu. Wu only hesitated for a moment, then continued, pressing his lips against Mako’s in a gentle kiss.

Mako sighed warmly against him and brought his hands up to curl around Wu’s shoulders and Wu wrapped his own arm around Mako’s waist. When they broke apart Mako asked if this was alright and Wu paused.

“Of course it is,” he said. It felt as natural and inevitable as every other part of their relationship had felt and he wondered why Mako was stopping to question it now when their path had always been so easy to follow. “Is it alright with you?”

“Of course,” Mako echoed, and Wu could feel Mako’s smile against his own when he kissed him again.

“Korra, Bolin, and Asami staged a bit of an intervention for me today,” Mako explained when they parted.

Wu found Mako’s hand between them and folded their fingers together. “What for?” he asked, smiling at the thought of Mako’s friends cornering him in some noodle shop.

“For you,” Mako replied simply. He squeezed Wu’s hand, but Wu could feel the slight tremor in it.

Wu scrunched his nose, confused. “What about me?” He carefully stroked the back of Mako’s hand with his thumb.

Mako swallowed and looked down at their hands. “About you… and me. About us.”

“Come on, big guy, you gotta help me figure out what you’re talking about.” Mako was starting to get flustered and Wu lifted Mako’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “What about us?”

“Um, they think we’re, uh… together.”

Wu frowned. “We are, aren’t we? We always are.”

Mako shook his head. “No, like… like, love…” His voice died on the word “love.”

Wu waited, but apparently that was all Mako could get out, staring at him expectantly, begging Wu to decipher his meaning without actually saying it. So, Wu tried, wondering what it was about them that had Mako so tied up when to Wu, it had always seemed like a straight line. “Mako, you know I love you, and you don’t have to say it back, but—”

“No, I love you!” Mako flushed as soon as the words left his mouth and Wu couldn’t help a pleased little smile. “I do,” Mako insisted, mostly to himself. “I think that’s what the intervention was supposed to be about… that I love you.” 

“I know that,” Wu said gently. “But I still don’t understand…?”

Mako scrubbed at his face with his free hand, then trailed it back through his hair, ruining the careful styling. “Why is this so difficult?” he groaned.

“I’m sorry—” 

“Not you,” Mako said hastily. “It’s me, I just can’t figure out how to say that I’m _in_ love with you.” Mako froze and Wu felt his grip spasm around his hand but he barely noticed, feeling instead the warmth that spread throughout his chest at the words.

It wasn’t a surprise, of course, it wasn’t that sudden bolt of realization that was always dramatized in the romance novels. (At least not for him. For Mako, maybe, if the look of new panic and new thoughts and new ideas flashing across his face were to give him a clue.) But no, this was how it had always been, hadn’t it? The last few years of them together, Mako and Wu, Wu and Mako, every next step and next step so logical that of course, _of course_ he was in love with Mako, that had been everything all along. Days of leaning in, days of talking, days of reaching out and him reaching back to meet him. They had both been so wrapped up in its happening that they hadn’t taken a moment to step back and see it as it was. They hadn’t needed to, of course, because it didn’t really matter what words they attached to it so long as it was them.

Mako and Wu, Wu and Mako.

“Wu?” Mako’s hand was on Wu’s face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheeks as he waited for Wu to reply, anxious. “Are you okay? Is… is this okay?”

And Wu just laughed, leaned in to kiss Mako again. “Of course it is.”


End file.
